Hair of The Dog, DuncanStyle
by BBBKA
Summary: When one of the kids comes home drunk, how do Bob and Amy handle it?
1. Shh! Just act normal!

Spiderman had his _spider_-_sense_ that tingled whenever there was trouble. Amy Duncan had something better: She had _Mom_-_sense_ that tingled whenever her kids lied. And at the moment that sense was tingling like a fork in a 220 volt electrical outlet.

"Relax, Honey. Teddy is a horrible liar," her husband comforted her. "We'll know if she's lying the minute she walks in the door."

"I don't know, Bob. She's growing up and getting better at it."

"What could she be lying about?" he reasoned. "You heard PJ; Ivy's car won't start and they need a ride home from Lauren's party. You're just upset because she called PJ for help and not you."

Amy scowled and slouched lower at her end of the couch. He was _not_ right. Absolutely not. When a teenager called her 18 yr-old brother for help instead of a parent, it wasn't about protecting her image in front of her friends, as PJ had insisted. Calling on a sibling instead of a parent meant only one thing: hiding something from the parents.

"Care to make a little bet on that?" She asked. "Twenty bucks says the kids are lying."

"Oh, you're on," Bob said, grinning. "But let's make it interesting. If I win, you have to go to the exterminator's convention with me. If you win –"

"If I win, you have to massage my feet every night for a month."

"A week."

"Two weeks."

"Deal."

They stopped and turned in mid-handshake as the front door opened. The first to enter was their son PJ. Tall and slim, he had a wide-eyed look of exaggerated innocence on his face that was a dead giveaway. His sister Teddy came in next. She was a pretty and graceful teen who was putting a lot of effort into avoiding eye contact with her parents. Her steps were overly precise and her face was very, very serious. She clung to the arm of her best friend, Ivy Wentz, a chubby girl in a flashy outfit. Ivy had the same precise steps and serious facial expression.

Bob and Amy exchanged a quick look.

"Thanks for the ride, PJ," Teddy boomed.

"Shhhh!" Ivy hissed,

"Thanks for the ride, PJ," Teddy whispered. Both girls giggled.

PJ rolled his eyes and gently ushered the girls toward the steps. "You said you were really tired, remember?" He said. "You were both going to go straight to bed when we got home. Go."

"Wait a minute." Amy marched over to the girls and stared intently at them, hands on her hips. Ivy and Teddy struggled to keep straight faces. PJ sighed and stepped away from them.

"Ivy, does your mother know you're staying the night here?" She asked, after a long painful moment of silence.

"Yes, Ma'am. I called her already."

"All right. I'm glad you're home safely. You girls did the right thing calling for a ride, " Amy said, and hugged both girls tightly.

"Teddy, your mom is so nice!" Ivy exclaimed. The girls clung to each other as they moved toward Teddy's room, chatting in loud stage whispers the entire way.

"Not as nice as yours."

"Yours is prettier."

"But mine is weirder, too."

"That's true, T. Your whole family is odd."

"Says the girl whose dad had an affair with his car."

"Shut up."

"Just how drunk are they, PJ?" Bob demanded, as soon as they were out of sight.

PJ shrugged.

"So we're just going to let them get away with it?" Bob asked his wife.

Amy didn't answer right away. She started pacing. Both men knew that a quiet Amy Duncan was a dangerous Amy Duncan, and they both knew better than to disturb her in moments like this.

She thought back to her own teen years, trying to remember just how many times she had lied to her own parents. There had been a few nights of sneaking in and trying to act sober, but she remembered more nights of frantically rearranging her clothes and fixing smudged lipstick and mussed hair to disguise evidence of backseat make-out sessions with the man she had gone on to marry. Her parents had always seemed utterly clueless; Amy wondered now how much of that had actually been selective ignorance.

"We have to be glad they didn't try to drive," she finally said. "That's a good thing. PJ, I need the absolute truth from you: has Teddy ever asked you for help after drinking before this?"

"No, Mom. I swear."

"I believe you."

"Amy, we have to do something. How do we know it was just alcohol? Maybe they—"

"Well, we know they didn't smoke weed. What do you think the hugging was all about? They don't smell like pot smoke."

"How do you know what weed smells like, Mom?"

"Please. I grew up in the 80's. I mean . . . I'm a nurse. I'm trained to recognize things like that," she added hastily.

"So, we're just waiting until morning to punish her and call Ivy's parents?" Bob wanted to know.

Amy's slow, devious smile was a frightening thing to see.

"Oh, we're not going to punish them," she said softly. "I have a much better idea."

"Your ideas scare me," Bob sighed.

-GLC-

Twelve year-old Gabe Duncan awoke to the smell of food cooking far too early for a Saturday morning. He was confused. It didn't smell like pancakes or eggs or any other normal breakfast food. It smelled like . . . tacos. At . . . 6:30? On a _Saturday_?

His mother had lost her mind. That was the only possible explanation.

Gabe groaned and looked over at the other twin bed where his older brother slept. PJ had a pillow clamped firmly across his face.

"PJ? You awake?"

"No," came the muffled response.

"Why does our house smell like a Taco Bell?"

"I don't want to know."

Gabe thought about it. His mom was not a great cook, but he reasoned that not even she could mess up tacos. Sure, it was very early for a weekend morning, but if her latest bit of strangeness involved tasty supper-type food at the butt-crack of dawn, who was he to argue? His taste buds didn't care what time of day it was. He was, after all, a growing boy who needed food. Lots of food.

He climbed out of bed and tiptoed toward the steps. Was he really hearing _Tejano_ music from the kitchen?

The music got louder and the smells grew stronger as he got closer to the kitchen. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the door open and froze, dumbfounded.

His mother had definitely gone crazy, he decided. And she had taken Ivy's mother along for the ride. Both women were dressed in brightly colored Mexican outfits, dancing around the kitchen while they cooked. They table practically groaned under the weight of food mounded up on it. Flour tortillas, corn tortillas, chopped lettuce and tomatoes, sour cream, salsa. Bowls of diced onions and peppers. Two big wine bottles. Glass pitchers of orange, tomato and grapefruit juice.

Some kind of spicy-smelling meat sizzled on the stovetop, while rows of little sausages sizzled on the electric griddle. Mrs. Wentz did a quick two-step from the griddle to the stove to stir the meat. Amy shook her behind in time to the rhythm of the whisk she used to beat a large bowl of eggs.

Gabe closed his eyes. Too late. "I am never going to un-see that," he grumbled.

"Good morning, Honey!" Amy called, raising her voice to be heard over the accordion playing. "Gabe, do you still have that ultra-violent, super-loud zombie video game?"

"You mean the one I'm only allowed to play when I'm home alone? Yeah, why?"

"I'll give you five bucks to play it right now. Downstairs, right outside Teddy's door."

"Um . . . she'll hurt me, Mom."

"Ten bucks. You run faster than she does. You'll be fine." Amy did a quick Samba. "Oh, and watch your step on the basement stairs. Your dad and Mr. Wentz are replacing the railing. Lots of hammering going on, so you'll really need to crank the volume."

Gabe had learned long ago that there were times when he just shouldn't question his mother. He had also inherited just enough from her to recognize when she was acting out one of her devious plans. He did a quick mental checklist: good food, ten dollars, permission to play a good videogame . . . he was definitely just an accomplice here, not the one on the receiving end.

He didn't know what Teddy could have done to warrant this kind of treatment, but he knew it was going to be good.

This was definitely going to be worth waking up at 6:30 on a Saturday.

-GLC-

_Remembering the night my big sister Barbie had to drive me home and then shushed me so Mom would never guess. . . and the very smart way Mom handled it. This is dedicated to Mom and Barbie, and to all the teenagers out there who are going to be stupid at least once - here's hoping they're all smart enough to call for a ride home!_


	2. Ugh morning

Teddy was in Hell. She didn't remember dying, and she was a bit surprised to find herself there because she had always tried to lead a good life. Maybe not perfect, but good enough for Heaven anyway.

She was pretty sure Heaven didn't involve heartburn, a queasy stomach and a pounding headache. It definitely didn't involve booming Mexican music or hammering noises . . . violent buzzes and beeps from a videogame just outside her door . . . loud, carrying voices of her father and –was that Mr. Wentz? "Ivy," she groaned. "Ivy, why is your dad here?"

"Why is _your_ dad so loud?" Ivy grumbled.

Teddy sat up slowly and groaned some more. She dragged herself out of bed and staggered to the mirror, wincing at her reflection.

"I look like death," she muttered.

"Does your family own a gerbil or hamster or something?"

"No, why?"

"Because I feel like something small and furry died in my mouth."

Teddy dropped into her chair and sighed. "Ivy, are we hungover?"

"I hope so, T. If we're not, then we've both got the bird flu or something. Maybe Anthrax." Ivy crawled out of bed and stood unsteadily. "What is wrong with your family? I've spent the night here lots of times, and they're never this noisy so early."

"That's got to be Gabe with the videogame."

"You want to hold him down while I kick him, or would you rather do the kicking?"

"Ivy, that's my little brother you're talking about!" Teddy said, horrified. A particularly loud series of noises rang out from his game, and she glared at the closed door between her and her brother. "Of course, I want to do the kicking," she growled.

***GLC***

"_**Gabe**_!"

Amy heard her daughter's bellow and smiled at Mary Lou Wentz. "Ahh, I believe our lovely daughters are awake," she purred, rubbing her hands together.

"This had better work, Amy. I still think we'd be better off grounding them until their thirtieth birthdays," Mary Lou said.

"Trust me."

Moments later, the kitchen door swung open to reveal two angry, miserable, hungover teenage girls. While Teddy was greenish-pale, Ivy's dark skin had taken on a ghastly gray tone. Both had dark circles under their red-rimmed eyes, and they seemed to be clinging to each other for more than just moral support.

"Mom! Tell Gabe he can't—why are you dressed like that?"

"Happy _Cinqo_ _de_ _Mayo_!" Amy sang out sweetly.

"_Cinqo_ _de_ what?" Ivy echoed.

"_Cinqo_ _de_ _Mayo_!" Mary Lou said. "We have _Heuvos_ _Rancheros_ and _chorizo_, with all kinds of toppings, and even a bottle of _Sangria_."

"We know you girls aren't old enough to drink yet, but one little taste won't hurt," Amy told them.

Teddy and Ivy exchanged glances and sat uneasily at the table. Their mothers heaped two plates high with large, steaming mounds of food, and Mary Lou poured six glasses of wine while Amy called the men and Gabe to the table. Teddy wondered briefly about her other siblings but didn't ask; she was so busy trying to stifle her nausea that she was afraid to open her mouth to speak.

I-I'm really not hungry, Mrs. Duncan," Ivy managed in a wavering voice.

"Oh, of course you are! No need to be so polite here, Ivy. You know you're practically family," Bob boomed, patting her shoulder.

"That's right; we feel the same way about Teddy!" Mary Lou chuckled. She hugged Teddy from behind and rocked her side to side.

Teddy groaned.

"Let's drink a toast to friendship!" Cried Harry Wentz. He picked up his wineglass and motioned for the others to do the same. Ivy and Teddy exchanged another glance. Slowly, tentatively, both girls raised their glasses. Ivy balked after one sniff, but Teddy managed to get one sip down.

"What's the matter, girls? Not feeling well this morning?" Amy asked.

"Not really . . . I think maybe we ate something that didn't agree with us at Lauren's house," Teddy mumbled.

"Oh, dear. I should probably call the Sandovals then. They'll want to let all of Lauren's other guests know."

"No! I—um, that is . . . excuse me!" Ivy leaped from her chair and bolted from the room with surprising speed. Her mother sighed before following her at a much more sedate pace.

The room became very quiet. The only sound was Gabe eating noisily, but even he slowed down as he became aware of the tension in the air. He frowned.

"Fine." Teddy finally muttered. "Obviously, this whole breakfast party is some plan to get me to confess. Okay, I confess. There was beer at the party last night, and Ivy and I both had too much. I'm sick and miserable and sorry, so can you just punish me so I can go throw up and go back to sleep? I've learned my lesson. I promise. I'm never drinking again."

"I just don't understand, Teddy," her father said. "You've never done anything like this before. What's going on?"

"I don't know. I. . . I was, I don't know—curious?" Teddy leaned back in her chair and stared up at the ceiling, unable to look at the disappointed faces around her. "It always sounds so good. An ice-cold beer just sounds so refreshing and delicious. There was a keg at the party, and I didn't think it would hurt to try."

"And did it taste as good as you thought it would?" Bob wanted to know.

"No." Teddy shuddered and made a face. "It tasted like skunks smell. Or rotten bananas. No, it tasted like a rotten banana-flavored skunk burp. I don't know why people drink it."

"But _you_ drank it," Amy reminded her gently. "If it was so awful, why did you drink so much?"

Teddy shrugged. "I thought I should finish it, just to be polite. But then somebody refilled my cup and it didn't taste so bad any more. I just didn't realize I drank as much as I did until it was too late."

Bob and Amy exchanged a quick glance. Amy cleared her throat and glanced meaningfully at the door. She knew they were both wondering the same thing, but she also knew that there were just some things a girl would never discuss in front of her father. Or her best friend's father, for that matter.

Or her twelve year-old brother! Amy's heart sank when she realized that Gabe had been listening to the entire conversation. He was staring at his big sister with an expression of mixed disgust and anger. Mentally, she kicked herself for forgetting that he was in the room.

"Gabe, Honey, why don't you take your plate into the living room," she suggested. "You and your dad and Mr. Wentz can all eat out there, okay?"

"I'm not hungry anymore." Gabe dropped his fork and stormed out.

When the men had followed him, Amy took her daughter's hand in her own. "Teddy, I need you to tell me the truth. Are there any parts of the party you don't remember?"

Teddy shook her head.

"Is there a chance that anyone put anything in your drink?"

Another headshake.

"Was Spencer there?"

"No, he left as soon as he saw the keg. I wish I had listened to him. What are you asking, Mom?"

"Teddy, if someone was refilling your drink, and you got so drunk so quickly, I just want to make sure—"

"Oh!" Teddy's face colored. "Oh, God, Mother! No, no, nothing like that! No, nobody did anything to me, I'm sure! Mom, it was my own fault. I drank too much beer because I thought I was too smart to get drunk. Nobody drugged me."

"Maybe we need to take you to your doctor, just to get you checked out—"

"Mom. No. Trust me; I remember every awful moment of the party. Even the parts I wish I could forget. Like when Ivy and I pretended to be cheerleaders and I tried to do a Russian leap off a coffee table. If there were drugs to make me forget that, I'd gladly take them." Teddy buried her face in her hands and groaned again. "I am so sorry, Mom," she said, her voice muffled. "I'll never do it again. I promise. I'll take whatever punishment you give me, if you'll just tell me how to feel better."

Amy smoothed Teddy's hair back and kissed her cheek. "We'll worry about a punishment later. For right now, you need to drink some water, take some Tylenol and go back to bed. Maybe have a piece of dry toast or some saltines to settle your tummy. "

Teddy leaned against her mother. "I love you, Mommy," she whispered.

"I know. But don't think that's going to keep you from getting punished."

"I know."

-GLC-

_I'd like to thank everyone for all the reviews – including my anonymous fans who went the extra mile and attacked me personally while saying nothing about the story you were "reviewing". In your efforts to shame, humiliate and intimidate me while not manning up enough to actually sign your reviews, you've only managed to make yourself look childish, and make me more determined. You've also managed to bring more attention and more readers to my little story, so thank you! By all means, please keep up the good work!_


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